The Story Of Tonight - Lamilton Modern College AU

Stay Alive

(TW: Abuse)

John

"Henry..." John seethed in a raged whisper. Pain, anger, fear, and years of memories flooding into his mind like a landslide- tearing down all of his walls, exploring every inch of his mind, destroying all that he had built. Tears stung behind his eyes as thoughts overwhelmed him, plunging him into a reckless sea of tears and guilt and regret and abuse. He wanted to throw up- a numbing sickness eating at his stomach. He dug his nails into his skin as he clenched his fists, biting his tongue until he tasted the metallic tang that could only come from blood.

 "Jack." His father smiled grossly, eyeing John with a sickening smirk. John's skin was drained of all color, his skin ashen. He bit back a scream, his only instinct to curl up against the wall and clench his teeth as he awaited the harsh pain of a belt attacking his bare skin. He wanted to speak but couldn't find his voice. How long had he been in that house? A few minutes? An hour? Years? He couldn't tell. "It's been a while, son," his father continued, attempting to place a hand on John's shoulder. John jerked away, flinching, before he could process the touch. His chest seemed to be tightening- was he dying? He kind of hoped so.

"Don't touch me." He tried to snap, tried to yell, tried to scream, tried to cry to the world. It came out as a weak plead, not a demand, his voice cracked and broken. He pressed his elbows into his sides. "Don't touch me." He repeated, slightly louder, but no more a command. A cold look flashed through his father's eyes, and his grin grew even more, his smile wicked and grotesque.

"I'll touch you if I want, boy," Henry said loudly, stepping closer. John pressed his back into the wall, his breaths short and shuddering. Why had he come here? Oh right- his siblings.

Their images flashed through John's eyes. Then he saw something slightly different-

A little girl trembling in a ball, bruises and cuts scattering her near-naked body. And an older girl with pale face, the only visible color on it being a patch the was covered in purple, yellow, and blue. One boy remain in a corner, sitting in a tight ball, his eyes open but not seeing anything. And then he saw his father, belt on the floor a few feet away, one of his hands clutching the collar on another boy's shirt, his other arm drawn back to punch again, the boy whimpering and shaking. He blinked the images away, tears blurring his vision.

"-and I'll enjoy it, too." His father finished. John was sure whatever he would enjoy wasn't good. He opened his mouth to say something- anything- hoping the courage he just gained would give him enough to stand up to Henry.

He didn't say anything, though. He couldn't. So as the first tear rolled down his face, he threw a clumsy punch at Henry, letting out a pained grunt as he did so. He didn't know he had that much strength. Physically and mentally.

Unfortunately, he had never punched before, and Henry caught his wrist. He twisted to the right, and John winced harshly, pulling weakly at his wrist until another tear escaped his eyes. His father let go and shoved him to the ground. He undid his belt, pulling it through the loops on his waste. He did it smoothly, as though he had done it a million times before. John knew he had from experience. John heard the belt more than he felt it- at first, anyway. The sound was so foreignly familiar- it was nothing but confusion. Another loud snap pulled him from his thoughts, a sharp stinging buzzing on his leg. His hands clutched helplessly at his sides.

Alex

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He glanced down, slowing his sprint, at his phone. It was almost there. He kept running, a dull pain rising up his calves, and fatigue slowing his thoughts. He was running on pure adrenaline, his face flushed and his fists so tightly balled that his knuckles were turning white. He halted when he approached an old-looking house, with loose roof shingles and flaking paint. The address matched up. His nostrils flared as he sprinted to the door, not allowing himself a second to breath after running five miles.

He slammed the door open, with gritted teeth. He took a sharp intake of breath as he saw the scene in front of him, his eyes flickering to the terrified ball on the floor. John.

The trembling mess was coated in sweat, his arms pulling weakly at his shirt. Tears raced down his face, his throat bobbing as he looked desperately between Alexander and the figure looming over him. He was shaking, his breathing rapid. Alexander's anger was only even more fueled. There were bright red marks littering all of the skin he had showing, and probably even more underneath his clothes. How could this happen? He was an adult, he was... Alexander felt rooted to the floor underneath him, but anger coursed through him.

His eyes flickered to the figure. He was tall, well-built, and decently attractive for his age. He presumed this was Henry, the man who put John through hell. The man that Alex loathed so much. "You fucking bastard..." he seethed. Henry narrowed his eyes, and Alexander's pulse skyrocketed. 

"'You the guy that this... fag," he looked to John with disgust, to which John replied by hugging himself tighter. "Has been fucking?" 

Alexander couldn't control himself. He threw his fist at him. It landed on his nose. There was a loud crunch, and blood trickled down his face. Henry took a disoriented second to gather himself. Henry, in turn, punched Alexander in the stomach. Alexander doubled over, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. Henry punched him in the gut again, causing Alexander to fall limply. I need to get up.

Despite the pain, he pushes himself up just in time before Henry could kick him again. Henry attempted another punch. Alexander caught his fist. He grabbed his arm with both hands, pushing until he heard a snap. Henry screamed, pulling his arm close to his chest before Alexander could do anything else. As Alexander was about to do something else, John punched Henry in the temple. Neither Alexander nor Henry had noticed his presence next to him. Henry stumbled backwards. Alexander paced up to him, startled when John reached out and grabbed his wrist. Alexander snapped around, looking at John in the worst state Alexander had ever seen him.

"Don't," John whispered. He looked at the floor, ashamed of how powerless he was against his father, even as an adult.

"But, John-" Alexander argued. John cut him off. "Don't!" He snapped. Alexander looked at John with a sympathizing and yet hard face. John was thankful that he wasn't getting one of those pitying looks- it makes him feel like less of a person.

"I'm sorry," Alexander said quietly. "I'm sorry," John replied with a small, forced smile. The tears in his bloodshot eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting. "I shouldn't have left early without telling you. This is all my fault... we should call the cops." John suggested. "Okay... and don't apologize. I understand why you did it." Alexander smiled back weakly.

Alexander pulled out his phone, dialing 9-1-1. 

The cops were on their way.

Everything was coming together.